Cold
by Max Novella
Summary: Wyatt and Lucy take a trip back to April, 1912 to board the Titanic with disastrous results. Begins with Wyatt's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Synopsis: Lucy and Wyatt take a trip aboard the Titanic in April, 1912 with disastrous results.

Full and fair disclosure: Timeless does not belong to me, nor do any of the characters. This is all from my imagination using THEIR characters.

Author's note: So this was a story I began writing way before the season premier. And as fabulous as that was, this doesn't have anything to do with that. This story was meant to take place directly after Season 1, so that is the "canon" in which it would fall. This is my first Timeless fanfic, so please be kind and review!

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 **April 15, 1912**

Lucy was right. She had been totally, completely, one-hundred percent right. _Dammit,_ he thought, teeth chattering uncontrollably as he clung to the small life jacket. _I wish I was actually going to get the chance to tell her she was right._

It took every ounce of strength Wyatt had to simply force another shaky breath partially into his lungs. The icy cold water felt as if it were stabbing through his heart with every exhale, and he knew it was only a matter of minutes before its icy grip around his chest prevented any more.

He was under no false impressions that he would survive now that he was in the water. She had told him as much, and had openly chastised his assurances that everything would work just as they had planned. _When,_ she had asked, _have our plans ever gone off exactly the way they are supposed to?_

She had been absolutely correct in her assessment of their situation back at Mason Industries. Her eyes had shown with fervent tears as she pleaded with him to find another way. _Wyatt, if we are on that boat when it steams out of Cherbourg YOU. WILL. DIE. There is NO way in which you survive this without a DAMN good plan._

And they had one. Or so he thought, but even he had not had the foresight to think someone would steal their bag from under their bed. The bag, containing their modern emergency raft and cold water dry suits, had inexplicably disappeared two days ago. Two days filled with theories, plots, plans, and ideas of how to escape a doomed ship with no success.

At one point Lucy was actually desperate enough to become a lookout to find a way to avoid the iceberg altogether, until Wyatt dutifully reminded her of their job to protect history at all costs. She had quieted at that, obviously torn by what it might cost her.

 _Might as well enjoy this while we can, Lucy,_ he had told her flippantly at dinner, mouth full of steak and waving his fork towards the elaborate crystal chandelier overhead. _In about forty-eight hours this boat will be on the bottom of the ocean._

Her face had noticeably paled, and he had instantly regretted the comment. He had held her hand tenderly as he led her back to their room, relishing the opportunity to again play her husband. Their fictional cover story of a young married couple returning to the US after a European honeymoon had allowed him plenty of opportunities to publicly touch and caress her, but the second the door to their private quarters was closed her walls had returned.

Wyatt had thought they were headed towards…. _something._ But then she had returned from her mother's house after another bomb was dropped and her world had been shaken to the core again. Needing to be her friend and her partner took precedence over investigating what was between them, and several weeks had passed in the meantime.

 _And now I'm going down with the Titanic,_ he thought ruefully. The boat had finally gone under several minutes prior, and remembering one of the key points from the famous movie Wyatt had tried to be one of the last people finally forced into the water. He knew he had only a matter of minutes, maybe ten, fifteen tops, before his body gave out on him and he went under for good. He was already too weak and in too much shock to get the stolen life vest around his body, and when he finally did release his grip he knew he would simply sink below the surface.

Lucy's face came unbidden to his mind. How pale her face had looked when he placed her into a life boat by herself, next to her new friend Molly Brown, making sure she had the key with her. The key Emma had so valiantly tried to find before the early stop at Cherbourg where she disembarked, unbeknownst to them until they were well over a day out of port. Lucy had raged at that revelation, turning her fear and frustration solely on Wyatt.

A small amount of warmth bubbled deep inside Wyatt as he remembered that night. Lucy had been beside herself, knowing they were in danger for _absolutely no reason now that Emma was gone,_ as she put it, and he could easily read between the lines to know that she feared for him. She had given him the statistics, that the majority of the victims of the tragedy had been male thanks to the "save the women and children first" theory. She had been red-faced and pacing for several minutes, growing increasingly more agitated by the second, when he finally decided to intervene.

A simple hand on the shoulder would have sufficed, but instead he grabbed her somewhat roughly around the waist and spun her around into his arms, planting his mouth firmly over hers. She hesitated at first, most likely from shock, but quickly melted into him and returned the passionate kiss.

 _It will be okay, Lucy,_ he had told her softly, smoothing her hair back from her face as tears began forming in her eyes. _It will be okay._ She had tried to speak but he had shushed her with another kiss, not wanting to let the moment get away. The remainder of the night was spent wrapped in blankets on the floor in front of the glowing fireplace, taking comfort in each other and taking advantage of the moment.

The warmth of that night with Lucy couldn't warm him now though. His body was struggling even more to breathe, and he suddenly realized he hadn't taken a breath while dreaming of her. His chest heaved violently, and his lungs felt like they were frozen from the inside out.

 _AAggghhhh,_ his frustration rang out in a garbled cry, a frozen whisper amongst the watery graveyard he was now floating in. The cacophony present immediately after the ship went under was growing increasingly quieter as the minutes ticked away, adding to the eeriness and inevitability of the moment.

 _Lucy,_ he whispered silently, _I'm so sorry. Please forgive me._

She was going to be pissed, and rightly so. He would feel the same way if the roles were reversed, and knew pissed wouldn't even begin to describe her turmoil. He had never hit a woman before, at least not one that wasn't trying to hit him back, and to hit the woman he loved seemed unthinkable only an hour ago. But he knew she would never leave him alone on a doomed and sinking ship, not willingly anyway, and he had to make sure she survived. So he did the unthinkable.

He had placed her, unconscious, into the boat next to Molly, who had taken an instant liking to Lucy earlier in their trip. Naturally, from one independent woman to another, they had formed a quick bond, and she had commented several times on what a good match Wyatt was for her. His wild eyes when he brought her to the boat unconscious had told Molly everything she needed to know, and she had instantly promised to look after Lucy. He had kissed her forehead, then was forced to step back and watch as the boat lowered to the surface without him.

Knowing she was safe had made staring down his impending death much easier. She would get to New York in a few days on the Carpathia, meet up with Rufus at their agreed upon rendezvous point, and they could grieve together when they got home. But she would make it _home._

His eyes were growing heavier by the minute, the growing silence finally enveloping him into a peaceful half-slumber. His lungs were no longer fighting for air, instead content with small jerky gasps every few seconds. The cold was beginning to feel not-so-cold, and he could see a faint light in the distance, drawing him closer.

He let go.


	2. Chapter 2

Pissed off. Actually, royally pissed off. That was the only way to describe what Lucy felt when she regained consciousness on the lifeboat without Wyatt well after it had been launched away from the Titanic.

 _And scared. Horrified didn't even begin to describe it._

The stark, icy grip of terror had encompassed her heart, making it difficult to even breathe as she slowly realized that her prediction had come true. Made worse with the knowledge of what he had done to protect her, well evidenced by the swollen knot on the side of her temple.

Molly had tried to comfort her, but as the realization snapped into place Lucy had sprung into action, immediately demanding the lifeboat turn around and return. The other passengers had been horrified at her suggestion, despite having room for many more souls in the spacious boat. Her increasing anger at being summarily dismissed when Wyatt's life was at stake finally drove her to shatter any sense of normalcy remaining within her. At that moment she felt closer to him than ever, and realized this must have been how he finally snapped in his quest to retrieve Jessica. She didn't care about preserving history; she just cared about preserving Wyatt. And she was going to do anything and everything possible to save him.

The crewman slowly rowing the boat away from the watery carnage suddenly had a hat pin shoved to within an inch of his eye, its elderly owner completely unaware Lucy had suddenly snatched it from her head.

 _Turn. This boat around. RIGHT NOW! Or I will throw all of you overboard and do it myself,_ she had threatened, her other fist full of the man's shirt and she inched the thick pin even closer to the man's eye.

Even Molly had gasped and been taken aback by the wildness in her eyes, but the frightened crewman had felt more threatened by the apparently psychotic women wielding a large hatpin in his face than the possibility of being overturned by desperate survivors in the ocean. He had slowly, painstakingly so, turned the boat around and began rowing back towards the mass of humanity bobbing in the ocean.

Molly's innocent, and altogether too sympathetic, question about how they would even begin to search for him, in the dark and quickly quieting mass of humanity, had torn a further hole in her heart. But she had maintained her stance, ordering the young steward to row faster toward the spot where the Titanic had finally disappeared beneath the blackness quite some time ago.

 _I don't know. I don't have the foggiest idea. But I have to try,_ she finally told herself. _If anyone could survive in the freezing water, waiting to be rescued, it would be Wyatt Logan._

She had counted on that. Had counted on his inexplicable nine lives to keep him safe, because a world where he didn't exist seemed as unfathomable to her as a world without her sister.

At some point she had shoved the small lantern into a young woman's hands, ordering her to sweep back and forth and look for any movement. The lack of movement, as well as voices or life of any kind from the hundreds of individuals bobbing in the ocean, had made even their quiet breath sounds ominously loud.

Several long minutes had passed, and the steward grew increasingly careful of where he placed his oars, the violent prompting from Lucy no longer necessary now that the threat of swarming them was no longer realistic. The massive loss had slowly registered with the other passengers in the boat, and they had actively helped Lucy in her frantic search for any sign of life, all of them now desperate to pluck even one survivor from the frigid ocean.

A shout, then a pointed lantern beam had revealed a small child, tucked within his mother and father's embrace and mostly out of the water perched on top of their floating bodies. He was quickly retrieved, the other ladies on the boat ecstatic to have found him. Lucy's instruction to strip him down naked and cover him with a blanket next to one of their own bodies was met with shocked glances, but she had simply retrieved the hairpin and waved it in their direction with a slightly crazy-eyed glance before they quickly complied.

She had met eyes with the steward, and he gently tried to tell her that anyone else in the water would be long gone by now.

 _Keep going,_ she had threatened, in a steely voice she didn't even know she possessed. Several more brutal minutes went by when she heard something break the silence. It was nothing she could discern, and the swinging lantern showed no movement of any kind until she saw a small ripple of water interrupt the stillness.

The boat turned slowly towards her outstretched finger, and within seconds the dim light revealed a very blue, very still, very not-breathing Wyatt. She had gasped his name, had moved to stand and jump into the water after him when Molly held her down. Her fists had instinctively flown out to break what was restraining her when Molly's reason broke through and gave her momentary pause.

 _If he's gone, he's gone. Not one difference 5 more seconds will make. If he's not gone, he's going to need every ounce of warmth you can give 'em._

Lucy's outstretched hand seemed to take forever to connect with Wyatt's cold, lifeless arm.

 _Wyatt,_ she had whispered, the tears freezing in her eyes before they could fall. _I'm here. Hang on!_

It had taken three of them to haul his frozen body over the edge of the boat, and when he stiffly clattered to the bottom of it Lucy's heart finally broke in two. But her body ran on autopilot, hands flying over his chest and face, desperate to find a pulse, breath, faint flicker, anything.

No breath, no pulse.

The other passengers had been shocked when she not only stripped off his shirt, but also pulled off her own coat and gown. She had draped them over their bodies as she hugged her warm chest to his freezing cold one, plugging his nose with one hand and breathing warm air into his lungs. Over and over she breathed for him, oblivious and uncaring what the other passengers on the boat were thinking as she tried to force as much of her own body heat into his cold body. All she could think of in that moment was spurring Wyatt back to life, even if it took the sheer force of every ounce of her will.

 _Don't you give up on me, soldier..._ breath.

 _You are coming home with me_...breath.

 _I need you_...breath.

 _I need you to come back to me_...breath.

 _Wyatt_...breath.

 _Please..._ breath.

His stomach had twitched slightly beneath her, followed by a small gasp of air faintly sucked in by his lungs. She had moved slightly off of him, still chest to chest to impart heat but giving his enough room to rise and fall on its own. Which it did, sporadically. She breathed for him several times over the next hour, many of them mixed with tears. His body was not fully capable of maintaining a consistent breathing rhythm, but she was overjoyed that it was trying and had a very faint, weak pulse.

Two other passengers had given them their blankets, gently tucking them around the couple. She continually rubbed his arms, his torso, his cold and raw face, which brought a new set of tears, in an effort to get his blood warmed and recirculating through his body.

A stretcher arrived to separate them before Lucy realized the Carpathia had arrived. She thought, perhaps only hopefully, that Wyatt was beginning to feel not-so-cold.

She let go.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucy's skin had finally begun to warm up.

Normally just the thought of her naked body pressed up against Wyatt's naked body for several hours at a time would have caused a hot flush to spread throughout her core. Today, however, she was simply thankful that his pale skin had absorbed enough of her body heat to begin shivering again.

Though over 700 survivors had been plucked from the ocean and now needed to be attended to, the majority were from dry lifeboats with non-life-threatening conditions. Lucy's insistence to the Carpathia's captain himself that Wyatt be afforded every available accommodation to overcome his shock and hypothermia had easily swayed the man after the previous night's tragedy. She was now rewarded with hourly visits from the ship's medical doctor, an elderly man perplexed by having to perform his examinations while cautiously avoiding the very naked woman wrapped around his very naked patient.

The body heat shared from her slight frame had barely managed to coax Wyatt back from the brink of death aboard the lifeboat, but she knew it would never have been enough to combat the damage the freezing water had done while it ravaged his body. As a result of her pleadings to the captain, he had also commandeered a cabin as close to the center of warmth from the boilers as possible for the young couple, and had requested as many blankets and hot water bottles as were available.

 _What I wouldn't give for a modern doctor with a warm IV right now_ , she mused, remembering how quickly it had warmed her after her accident in the river. She could not remember exactly when they had been invented and put to standard use, as medicine beyond basic first aid was far past her abilities, but she knew it wasn't until at least the early 1930's. All she could do is keep him dry and continue to gradually warm his body, thankfully now with the help of several warm bottles and thick blankets.

Finally, after many hours of gently massaging, rubbing, and kneading his cold muscles and skin, as well as monitoring his breathing and pulse, Lucy began to feel him shiver. She had smiled when the first small shiver racked his frame, as it was evidence that his body's core was finally trying to work on its own to warm up. His muscles continued to twitch beneath her, and she moved slightly to his side to readjust several of the hot water bottles to a better position around his feet.

She was still tucked close into his side, and her arms and hands had not ceased their frantic movement since he was pulled aboard. But for just one quiet moment she stopped her constant ministrations to simply gaze at his face, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead as she traced his face with her fingers. Despite nearly succumbing to death merely hours before, Wyatt Logan was still, and by far, the most handsome man she had ever met. His lips were losing their bluish tint, and his skin was finally beginning to return to a pale version of its normal color. His heart and breath had returned to a fairly normal rhythm, and for the first time since she had awakened without him in the lifeboat she felt... _hope_.

She broke, then, the vision of a floating, blue and unbreathing Wyatt burned into her mind never to be forgotten. Eyes brimmed with tears as she sunk her face into the crook of his neck, her hand splaying across his chest to confirm that his heart still beat strong and true beneath it.

 _Wyatt..._ she sobbed, tears finally escaping as she could no longer contain her tormented heart.

 _I don't know what I would do without you,_ she whispered, her tears tracing a path down Wyatt's neck. Her head rose, reddened eyes gazing upon his face and wishing for nothing more than a flutter, followed by brilliant blue. _Please wake up, Wyatt,_ she implored, gently placing a kiss on his lips. _Please wake up and come back to me._


	4. Chapter 4

He awoke gently, gradually becoming more and more aware of his surroundings. At first he was only dimly aware of his own existence, evidenced by the faint internal sounds of his respirations and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. That quickly followed by sensing the pulsating motion of the ship as it moved, his body dimly aware of the forward movement while laying still.

His every nerve ending felt raw and tender and the rough scratchy blankets covering him were tormenting his naked skin. He was quickly propelled to full consciousness by the uncomfortableness, and while remaining completely still was gradually aware of something very warm and solid pressed against his left side.

 _Wait, why am I naked?_

His mind desperately rewound through his last memories, consumed by images of wet darkness. He had been floating, cold and alone in the vastness of a silent floating graveyard, desperately praying he had secured Lucy's safety.

 _Lucy._

His body jerked with the sudden recognition of his last thoughts. Frantically he fought through the murky fog surrounding his brain, before his wrecked senses heard a soft, hopeful "Wyatt?" coming from his left side. Tearing through waves and waves of incoherence, he became desperate to see the face that matched the voice.

"Mmmah...ugh," he finally managed. Forcing his eyes to squint open briefly, they closed quickly of their own accord at the brightness. Despite the split-second of light, he had seen her, or at least the outline of her. He could feel as her hands grasped his, clutching onto him like a lifeline, and he could feel the tremor in her whole body as she spoke to him again.

"Wyatt," she choked down a sob. "Can you hear me?"

He nodded and squeezed her hands, yet unable to force his eyes open again. She didn't speak again, but he felt her collapse into his side out of relief, her face pressed into the side of his neck as she sobbed. Her hand found the opposite side of his neck and clung to him as her whole body shook with the force of her emotion.

"...ucy," he finally managed to whisper, his weak arm only able to gently caress hers for comfort.

He was aware of her head popping up to search his face, and valiantly he tried again to open his eyes. This time he was able to keep them open by squinting, providing a fuzzy, yet very welcome view of Lucy. Unlike before, the longer his eyes were open the less the light seemed to bother him.

"Are you...," she choked on the words, sniffing to regain her composure and deciding on a different approach before she gave him a small, but obviously fake smile. "How do you feel?"

"Ah...," he gently tried to clear his throat. _This must have been what Agent Mulder felt like after his cold near-death experience._

"Like I got a bad case of freezer burn," he was finally able to whisper, congratulating himself for the quick television reference.

Her face crumpled at that, her watery eyes plowing into his neck again as she resumed sobbing. His hand resumed its weak ministrations against her arm, silently waiting for her emotions to pass.

"Lucy," he was able to whisper her name this time. Her red eyes met his, and he was suddenly aware of just how haggard she looked. She was always normally a bit pale, but she looked practically white now, her face blotchy from her tears and her eyes rimmed with a deep purple and sunken well into their sockets. Fear gripped him then with the sudden realization that she might have been injured.

"Are you okay?" he rasped, squeezing her arm as much as he could muster and willing his soft voice to meet her gaze.

She sniffed again and gave him a slightly more genuine smile. "I am now," she began, before losing control and covering her mouth with her hand to cover more escaping sobs. With as much strength as he could muster he reached up and pulled her head back to his chest, gently placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"It's okay, Lucy. It's okay," he soothed, feeling her chest gradually stop heaving.

Several long minutes passed before her quiet voice broke the silence. "You were dead, Wyatt."

His hand suddenly stopped its motions on her arm. Her voice was tenuous when she continued, and he felt her pull into his side a bit tighter.

"I made them turn the lifeboat around to look for you. I didn't think I was going to find you, and I don't know how I did. But suddenly there you were. You were...," she paused to take a deep breath to steel her resolve. "You were still. You weren't moving, and you were so blue. When we got you into the boat you were dead."

Wyatt closed his eyes. Had the situation been reversed he knew he would have been a raging mess, trying not only to find Lucy in the watery darkness but then fighting to bring her back. A vision flashed into his mind of HER, of his Lucy, motionless, blue, and dead floating in the ocean. His sharp intake of breath alarmed her and she slightly rose again from his side.

"Are you okay?" she surveyed him worriedly, her brown eyes drinking him in.

He nodded. " 'm sorry, Lucy," he mumbled, "I don't want to even imagine what that was like."

Her soft hand pushed the hair from his forehead before caressing the side of his face, her thumb resting gently on his cheekbone. "It was absolutely awful. Don't ever do that to me again," she warned, her voice breaking slightly before raising up to tenderly place a small kiss on his lips.

"Try my best...ma'am," he murmured, his eyelids becoming heavy again.

"You need to get some rest," she stated, beginning to untangle herself from him.

Wyatt's eyes flew open again as his arms involuntarily reached for her, his mind now filled with visions of Lucy in a cold dark ocean out of his sight and reach. "Stay? Please?" was all he could breathe out, before looking down at her chastely trying to cover herself with a blanket and realizing she was completely naked.

She met the question in his eyes with a haughty lift of her chin. "Everyone knows the best way to conserve or share body heat is to...well...to share it...skin to skin...," she trailed off. One corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk as he pulled her back down into his chest and she rearranged the blankets over them again.

" 'm not complaining," he offered sleepily. "You look like you could use some rest too."

She yawned, then without a second thought burrowed deeper next to him. "We'll reach New York tomorrow. Then we meet up with Rufus and finally go home from this nightmare."

His arms tightened slightly around her. " 'm sorry, again, Lucy. And thank you," he whispered.

Lucy's arms squeezed him tightly. "I don't know how I found you. But I am so thankful I did," she trailed off, her own exhausted body finally demanding a respite.

"I could not imagine going home without you," she sleepily admitted. Then only a moment later simply, "I need you."

Wyatt's eyes stung at her revelation, and as weary as his body was he pulled her closer. "I need you too, Lucy," he rasped into her ear, and placed a kiss on her forehead. He wasn't sure what their experience on this trip would mean for their relationship when they returned home, but he had a feeling it would never be the same.

Before he could say anything else they were both fast asleep, their exhausted bodies greedily overpowering their senses to gain some much overdue rest.

FIN.


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